


Color Me Not

by misseroda



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, France Larry, Italy Larry, M/M, Mentions of Death, Painter Harry Styles, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Travelling Harry and Louis, sculptor louis tomlinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28725147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misseroda/pseuds/misseroda
Summary: Harry is someone who refuses people to give his life color, while Louis is looking for someone to build and hold.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson





	1. Prologue

"Did you ever think where you will be in like 10 years time?" Louis asked the younger, the breeze of the sea making their conversation more comforting - and that is a _first time_ for them. Harry looked at him, his ever mesmerizing eyes piercing through him. "I don't know, to be completely honest with you," Harry looked up the setting sun.

"I have three possible answers to your question though,"

Louis puts his attention the younger, who was already staring at him. The smaller man gulps. How can a young man's stare make him feel so electrified? Isn't that something ~~special~~ silly?

"In 10 years, I might still be an artist - already _well renowned_ ," Harry chuckled. He felt like a braggart for a while. "or I might be at the prison, with plenty of mugshots," Both of them laughed.

"You do look like someone who has dashing looks but is a criminal," Louis answered him, Harry doing this little frog face Louis always found funny.

" _Shut up,_ " Both of them cracked up again.

"What is the last one?" Louis had this feeling of anticipation within him, he does not know why.

" _Well-_ I really think the last one is me being in a casket with art supplies," Harry said this quite straightforwardly, as if looking forward to the idea of _death._ "You really think of death, Harry?"

"We will all experience death, Louis." They look at each other, blue meeting green, lost eyes finding relaxation. Though Louis felt a little pang at his chest with the idea of ~~losing~~ Harry dying. _What is this feeling?_

"Well, sure we will,"

Harry chuckled. "I'm sorry for bringing that up,"

"It's okay," Louis whispered.

Louis cannot handle loss and death, hence why he feels so uncomfortable. The pain in his chest is still quite unexplainable.

"Oh, by the way, I got one last option - still in consideration," Harry said, looking at him with the same gaze again.

Louis just nodded, waiting for the younger's words.

" _I am actually looking forward to still being with you after 10 years._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey - hello to everybody reading this! My first Larry fanfic in a while. I miss writing so yes, I came up with this idea. English is not my first language so please understand if there are grammatical errors throughout the chapters. This story is published both in Wattpad and AO3! so if you feel like using two apps for one story, it's great! See you on both platforms and see you on chapter 01 xx Nine.


	2. 01

_Paint, paint, paint._ That's the only thing who bugs Harry out of his fuckery. If this wasn't for his mom buying him a whole paint set and renovating their home just for an art room, he wouldn't be this addicted. This all started when he turned 12, that awkward time of deciphering whether you are still a kid or an adolescent. He had a huge fascination from drawing and painting, hence why he is here now – a young man still at his home.

Harry is now 24, though his young age, has now finished his course. What did you expect? Of course, Fine Arts. He is having a hard time finding a job, as his course wasn't as famous and productive as it should be. One _'fact'_ that his mother said when he started choosing courses for uni. Also the main reason why Harry stays at home - and probably will stay at home until he found a job that requires painting. He hated the situation – but he chose this. He'll persevere.

Stacks of works filled a perfectly shaded room by his houses' terrace, amount of canvases ranging about 35 to almost 50, and the rest are sketches on pads and papers. He started painting and drawing these back when he turned 16 – when he turned legal in Britain. His mother, Anne, doubled his allowance by then, making him eligible to buy his own art stuff.

Some paint brushes were already worn out and hundreds- well, maybe _thousands_ of pencils were used. Papers from way back 2010 were already yellowing. Harry tagged himself as someone sentimental so he kept it for the lease of memories. Keeping it in a drawer inside the room. If his materials and works from Cheshire were to be shipped here, the room would be cramped.

Right now – it's September. He is now preparing for the 13th, for his best mate Niall's birthday. He met the Irish lad back in an art and music camp – of course Harry was there for arts, but Niall was a simple guy carrying a huge guitar with him. What amazes him is that the lad is left-handed but he can play strings perfectly the way it should be played with the right hand.

Niall does not like overly elaborate gifts - but Niall's been his friend for the _longest_ time now. He is sketching him a portrait and will probably start marking and painting it soon. Niall will turn 25 as he is a year older, so Harry thinks it will be the best if he gave out a portrait to the other brunette. It is something that can be fixed for a span of time, he thinks it is more practical than giving him a pair of trousers that will just be left unused.

Harry called it a day and he did not realize he had been in that room for about 5 hours now. It's already 9 in the evening, and it is great time, he'll eat his own dinner right now. Though Harry's life seems perfectly okay - well it is not. And no, he does not live alone. His oh-so-annoying sister, Gemma moved in his own flat last year. It was coincidental (he still doubts the chances of coincidence until now) that Gemma - as a state trooper has been assigned to London.

Between the two of them, Gemma has always been the brave one. It just seems like their personalities were too opposite, Harry hated it. Gemma is _too positive_ with everything even if her work is worrisome. She'll end up saying an 'okay' even if she is already wounded. Harry meanwhile is a _scaredy-cat_ who would already tear up just by the plain sight of blood in front of him. He finds it weird that people does not gush at the sight of blood.

Harry walked out of his art room, scratching his tired eyes. He admits - his work is actually tiring and is not that simple just like how the public would call it. Being an artist requires focus, inspiration and well, _energy_. Right now, Harry does not have the third one. He figured it would be nice to rest, something he does not normally do. This would lead him to caffeine intake - with all of his conscience chanting 'coffee, coffee, coffee.' It has been the first time of this week that he actually felt sleepy - he felt quite relieved but still in wonder what the fuck did he exactly do to his very own body clock.

The second he stepped into the kitchen, he saw his sister washing the dishes already. Harry rolled his eyes, tapping her shoulder so that his sister will acknowledge his presence which was clearly late.

"Is your diet strict," Gemma teased. It has always been this way since she moved in - not that Harry is complaining. Having Gemma at his house was like having a piece of home inside a very _unhomely_ (Is that a word?) environment in London. Harry misses Cheshire. That is why having Gemma is like having a noisy tamagochi, annoying but still comforting.

"Well if you could shut up, maybe my diet is strict," Harry rolled his eyes, a chuckle evident between his words. It looks like Gemma cooked some - or maybe bought a Rotisserie. It also has Caesar's salad on the side. Quite bountiful. A second after Harry examined the food on the table, he finally digged in. It was like taking a sip of the coldest beer on a hot summer. Is it satisfaction?

“Eat up fast, I have a little surprise when you finish," Gemma randomly said, making Harry furrow his eyebrows. "Is that supposed to scare me, Gems?" Harry was doubting, heck, Gemma is 26 and he is 24. Both grown-ups, a lady and a man. Not teenagers anymore. Not petty siblings anymore – but a surprise? That is quite absurd at his point of view.

"Are you scared?"

" _No_ ,"

Gemma laughed. "I'll be upstairs waiting."

Harry was freaked out. Does Gemma finally have a boyfriend? Or is she secretly married? Is she pregnant? Is she not a trooper and is probably a state spy instead? This is Harry. Overthinker. He is not that elated with surprises, that is why – surprises always tend to be _open-ended_ for him. It might be good, and it might be bad. It might even be overwhelming. Too bad, Harry never felt those kinds of happy surprises. It's always either bad, or overwhelming.

He sighed. He just hoped that 'surprise' Gemma is pertaining to is something happy and worth celebrating for, even if it is only temporary. Who wouldn't want joy in their life, right?

. . .

"You do give me a handful of anxiety, do you not know that?" Harry sighed, finally sitting down with his sister on her room. Gemma is simple – she doesn't have that thrill in her, which Harry dislikes so much. She is too straightforward, but how can you blame a girl who enlisted at the age of 19? Tough guts, that is what a Styles is made of.

"Read, maybe. Or are you already too immersed in your artsy and cutesy–" Gemma tried to tease the younger, but got cut off the immediate second Harry snapped his head up.

"My art is _not cute_ , okay Gemma?" Harry grabs the small piece of paper from Gemma, and carefully reads out the content. He needs to be meticulous. He fell in these kinds of traps even way before, expecting a small letter from a close friend – it still ends up with a joking-mannered message from a bully or a fake friend in high school.

**Micheducci Global Art Fair & Exhibit**

**October 17 – 21, 2018**

**The National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross, London WC2N 5DN, United Kingdom**

**FOR INQUIRIES, CALL +44 7911 ********

"Holy _fuck, fucking shit_!" Harry's eyes widened as he read the business card. "Micheducci Fair!" The man squealed. This art fair has been a dream of his ever since he moved to London. He has attended a few times already, the last time he visited was 2 years ago – but just as an audience.

Harry's face visibly lit up to his sister, hugging her immediately. " _Bloody hell_ , Gemma! Where'd you get this business card? Holy fuck!" The curly haired man started acting like a little boy excited for the new volume of Marvel Comics. Gemma then grinned at him, hugging back.

"Told 'ya, t'was a surprise, Haz." The lady answered, ruffling her brother's hair. "We will be escorting the fair for this year – and apparently we all need to atleast bring one there. I knew you'd like to be an audience, but I already realized you went for the past years. I thought it would be much better if I refer you as a participant, and not just someone who is looking around alone, right?"

Harry couldn't contain his happiness right now, because his sister just gave him an opportunity to have a job – or maybe even a better offer. Micheducci Fair is telecasted yearly of different broadcast stations worldwide, and he might be able to show everyone what he has not only as a painter, but as an innate artist as well.

"Gems, thank you, really! This is all too well for me," Harry teared up. Now this is his definition of a happy one, a happy surprise. "Never thought a day like this would come, I am genuine right now, Gemma," Harry finally cried out, tears of joy, with Gemma rubbing his back. Just like her brother who was insanely happy, she was that proud as well.

"I will be back at the Coastals soon, so maybe you could take this as my farewell gift," Harry hugged her tightly, they were both being sappy siblings as if they were 9 and 7 again. Both of them remember they used to be the siblings everyone envied. During primary school to high school, they were so close, they seemed so untouchable. The other would always have the others' back.

"T'sad that I'll have to see you leave again, Gems," Harry pouted. "But happiness is just over me right now, so can we talk about that later?" They both laughed and started talking about the fair, until midnight of the next day.

. . .

Just like that – weeks came by like it's just a matter of well, seconds. It is finally September the 13th, Niall's birthday. Thankfully, the portrait was finished just a day ago. Harry had to admit, he was more excited for the fair than Niall's birthday. That is why his best mate's portrait came late for him. What's important is that he finished it on time and that is the thing that matters.

Gemma was out for work, so Harry was left alone inside his flat. "Niall's party is at 7, so I still got – hm," Harry checked the clock ticking right above him. "5 hours? You've got to be kidding," Harry sighed, he was getting impatient as he is alone. His arms and hands were still worn out due to the finishing touches he did for Niall's portrait, so he could definitely not spend time painting again. Next thing he'll know, he is already at his bed with fatigue.

For his own sake, the curly lad decided to go out and do some grocery. He realized their fridge was almost empty, and the remaining 5 hours was already calling out to him as if it was saying _'Hey, mate, fill me up, will 'ya?'_ Harry definitely stopped thinking of those words inside his head because it sounded so... wrong? Yes, just like he thought so.

He promptly grabbed a coat to start killing his time outside – carrying a tote bag and an eco bag on both of his arms. Harry sees plastic as art materials, but most of the time it is just waste. He decided to carry his own bag while doing some shopping. It makes the flat cleaner in his opinion, though Gemma still messes the living room with things Harry refuses to disclose.

Harry goes out of his home, unaware that Niall's party would bring him either luck or another silly headache.


End file.
